


Saining

by bubblewrapstargirl



Series: Rites [1]
Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Paganism, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary had not known that it was possible for the heart of a queen to hold such happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saining

After an agonisingly long wait for King Henry to return to court with the papal seal, legitimising Bash and declaring his marriage to Catherine void, everything moved very quickly. Mary had grown accustomed to the frequent stalling which seemed to characterise French court life, and was not quite prepared for such a flurry of change. Henry and Diane were quickly married, and barely a week later her own wedding finally arrived. Francis was the only important noble not present; it hurt like a sharp jab to the stomach to look around at the smiling faces of her friends, and the barely concealed grimaces of their enemies, and not count him as an ally among the crowd.

But it had been almost three months since Mary seen him last, and in his absence, her feelings for Bash had grown greatly. Sebastian was far less inhibited than Francis had been, a reflection of a lifetime of being mostly out of the public interest. He was far more honest and open about his feelings, and willing to confer with Mary over anything. It was a refreshing change. Though Francis had promised to stand beside her, he never seemed to take her opinions seriously. Sebastian welcomed her counsel and in Henry's absence, they had spent many afternoons in the sun-light garden discussing matters of state. Bash was still a little too carefree in his judgements for Mary's liking, but she could not deny that with her caution to balance him, they would make a formidable pair.

Her wedding passed in a joyful blur. The whole castle was festooned with flowers, every surface scrubbed, buffed and polished until it gleamed. Mary wore an extremely beautiful dress; heaped layers of white silk decorated with hundreds of sparkling diamonds and thin gold thread. She was also gifted a necklace from her mother, with deep blue stones of a fantastic clarity. It complimented the royal blue of Sebastian's tunic. Together, they shone.

The consummation was unnerving, but Mary had drunk more wine than usual to soften her nerves, and regardless, Bash was exceedingly gentle. Whether or not he knew she was not a maid, she did not know. But Bash had certainly had lovers before. Mary found herself fervently praying that she would not have to suffer Catherine's fate. One mistress at court was certainly the French way, but she did not want to share him with a string of lovers.

The next weeks passed without incident; Bash spent much of it at his father's side, learning the minutiae of running the kingdom. But he was consistent in his affections, and Mary certainly did not lack for his attention after the fall of darkness. Bash was masterful in her bed. His kisses were deep; consuming. He was strong, able to lift her easily, and powerful. He had far more stamina than Francis had, and she began most days with a dull ache between her legs. But it was a satisfying pain, and she relished the way his eyes followed her about a room.

Months passed, and her belly began to swell. She surprised Bash in the courtyard, and dragged him out to the lake where they had shared their first kiss, refusing to answer his questions until they sat in the same spot. Any attraction between them back then had been idle and foolish, and now here they were, wed, with the evidence of their love quickening in her. When she told him, Bash swept her into his arms, laughing, and kissing her exuberantly. Mary had not known that it was possible for the heart of a queen to hold such happiness.

Francis returned to court when her confinement was almost upon her. It was strange to see him, and feel the ghost of their love between them in his weak smile. Mary had thought she had known was it was to love; but although her affection for Bash was still young, it was shored up by all the security it had brought her, and solidified in the child she carried, which she had immediately loved above all things. So it was exceedingly queer to be reminded of a child's love now that she was a woman. He kept a polite distance from her and Bash both.

Diane took more of an interest in her as the birth approached, and without her own mother there to comfort her, Mary submitted to her superior knowledge. It was only with mild trepidation that she let the new queen into her confidence. She found Diane to be cold, but not without her charms.

Mary was delivered of a son, born late and consequently far larger than expected. She lost a great deal of blood, and the fear for her life did not abate for some time after the birth. She had seen him only fleetingly during that time, but Bash saw him every day, and assured her the babe was hale and hearty, as he pressed kisses into her damp hair. But Mary did not succumb to the birthing sickness. She was determined to see her son grow, and slowly, her health began to return.

Eventually she was allowed time in the gardens, seated, accompanied by her ladies and many servants to attend to her comfort. But best of all, the nurses brought her son to her, and she was allowed hours of time to cradle him. Baby Sebastian had taken her hair colour, though it was still downy; and pale blue eyes that would surely become the soft jade green of his father's.

It was during one of these sunny outings, that Diane ushered her ladies aside, to speak to her in private about the blood wood. Mary stared at her in horror, and tucked little Sebastian further into her breast, as though her arms could protect him from all knowledge of the bloodthirsty heathens in the woods.

"Bash is being quite unreasonable. So I am appealing to you, Mary. I know you are a sensible girl. It is only a short ceremony; just a trifle really. You would only be introducing the boy to his future kingdom. No blood would be spilt."

"And if we do not?"

Diane's lips pursed in what Mary now knew was her most public gesture of acute annoyance. "That is not a path you can consider, my dear. The boy must be presented to his ancestors for judgement, or they will forsake him."

"What exactly does that mean?"

Diane's cool gaze hardened, pinning Mary in place. "Consider this. Do you think I would have risked my life to afford Bash this protection, if it were not essential?"

In the end, it was the fear in the queen's eyes which convinced Mary of the importance of this pagan ritual for her son's protection. But Bash was not so easily convinced.

"Sebastian, please!" Mary pleaded, "What real harm can it do? We shall go for a short walk with our son, say a few words and anoint his head with a little oil. Weren't you the one who told me the pagans weren't so very different from us? Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"What do you suppose will happen, if we are discovered? We will be branded as heretics. Do you really think the people will support our claim to the throne when they have three good Catholic sons they could so easily replace us with?"

Mary swallowed thickly. Everything he said was true. And yet... "Do you not remember what happened last time you tried to defy their traditions?"

She still saw that hideous stag's head sometimes, in her nightmares.

Bash crossed her chambers, gently wrapping his hands around her thin arms. "Which is precisely why I want our son to be kept free from the blood wood and their beastly gods."

He slowly brought his brow to rest upon hers, closing his eyes. But Mary had already seen resignation there, and knew he would not continue to argue against it.

Diane gave them very clear instructions. The following afternoon, instead of Mary retiring to her room as the sun began to wane, Sebastian came upon them in the garden, and suggested an evening stroll. He plucked their son from the arms of the protesting nursemaid, and headed towards the lake with Mary at his side. Out of sight of the castle, he transferred the babe into Mary's waiting arms, and used a lump of charcoal to mark the boy's foot, as true pagans would have done at his birth. Then they proceeded into the woods, as the sun fell below the horizon.

As usual, once they had breached the borders of the blood wood, a menacing air of expectancy descended. Mary pressed close to Bash, shielding baby Sebastian in her cloak as much as she was able. The rustle of movement came from behind them, and then to the left, and then creeping noises from all around. Neither moved to slit open their palms, nor chant the pagan prayer, and the noises grew in intensity. Mary shivered, frighting the urge to scream. Every bone in her body was telling her to protect her child, and run, but instead she fought her instinct, and with a nod from Bash, slowly lowered their babe onto the forest floor.

The sudden silence was deafening. Bash did not waste any time. " _Congregate!_ " his words were not quite a shout, but they it echoed throughout the deathly silent wood." _Benedicat hac vita._ _Deus in silvis, accipiet eos filius noster,_ _et benedicant eum in nomine suo;_ Sebastian."

For a long moment, the woods did not answer.

Then, like the unfurling of a snake from under the leaves, the deep chanting began, growing in intensity with every repeated word; " _Deus in silvis, accipiet eos filius noster,_ _et benedicant eum in nomine suo;_  Sebastian."

Over and over the line was repeated, but Mary's attention moved to Bash, who dropped to his knees in the dirt, and took hold of little Sebastian's tiny arm. He moved the child this way and that, inspecting every finger, and every toe, and the baby gurgled, reaching for Bash's face, fond of this new game. Mary could not see Bash's expression, but she knew he would be smiling, that wistful look he wore whenever he set eyes upon his son, as though he he could not believe that he had been allowed something so good. The pagans surrounding them fell silent, as Bash lifted the child into his arms and formally accepted him. He dipped is thumb into the pouch of oil at his belt and drew his finger across Sebastian's brow, before calling out the chant one last time.

The woods were quiet once more when they left. Little Sebastian warm in his mother's arms, drifting to sleep with the gentle rocking motion of Mary's steps, and the full-grown Sebastian keeping a watchful eye on them both, as he lead them safely home.


End file.
